


What I've Done

by kingslayersrogue



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst fic, Blood, Emotional Trauma, F/M, I'm Sorry, It's just torture, Pain, Season 5 rumors, Torture, Unpacking a life of hard choices, just pain, this is not a nice fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-08 20:32:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13465998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingslayersrogue/pseuds/kingslayersrogue
Summary: WARNING/NOTICEThe scenes and character traits portrayed in this story are in no way what I believe to be true. This is based on things heard at cons, taken to an extreme by my mind. There is blood, descriptions of torture, and other distressing material. It is completely possible to read the second chapter (when it goes up) as a standalone to this story. This is not a happy story. Nor do I ever want something like this in canon.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guys I'm sorry but I'll try to do something nice soon.

The guards come while he’s alone in his quarters, Trikru by the looks of their tattoos. “Heda requires your presence at once,” One tells him, a strange coolness to his tone. The timing is odd, the escort is odder. He follows them nonetheless, seeing no point in trying to resist. Realization only dawns when he arrives to find the council room empty, save for Octavia. This isn’t a regular meeting. “It’s come to my attention Ambassador, that there have been some lapses in justice under your command. How long were you planning on keeping this from me?” He ignores the way his title slips from her lips like venom, chalking it off as stress. Their life was hard, trying to lead the last of humanity was harder. “I did what I saw fit under the circumstances. It wasn’t brought to your attention because I didn’t feel it needed to be.” Kane spoke calmly, Octavia was a ticking time bomb. The power she held hanging over her like a black cloud, the darkness it bled seeping into who she was. “You made an exception, we can’t afford that.”

“I made a choice to not punish a child. He was scared, there was no malice behind it.” He could see the agitation growing within her. Building up with every defense he gave. “We’re all scared, but that doesn’t mean anything. If we show weakness things will crumble, and we’ll all be dead before the radiation clears. Justice must be served.” She stands up, the commander’s capes swishing behind her as she nears him. “Do you know what percent of the injuries medical treats come from fights started by Skaikru? Sixty-eight percent Kane, more than half and damn near three quarters. It seems like you’re losing control of the people you’re supposed to represent.” He grimaces, not at the blunt insult but to the cold-detachedness masking the once vibrant girl. His heart aches for the childhood she should’ve had.  _ The one he robbed from her. _ “Something will have to be done to establish order.”   
“I won’t punish a child,” He says definitively, that was something he couldn't bring himself to do. Not again, not ever. “Then you’ll take the boy’s punishment yourself, among others.”

“ _Among others?_ What is that supposed to mean?” Marcus whispered, afraid of where this was going. “You are ambassador, you either deal with the actions of your people fittingly, or you take the punishment yourself. That is how we will keep order.” There’s a heavy silence, Octavia looking anywhere but him, trying to keep her hand from twitching at the hilt of her sword. Kane's lost, trying to sort through her words. “The culling, you mean to make me an example,” He said slowly, careful to keep the emotion out of his tone. “Yes, but I don’t hear you making a case for yourself. We both know the blame is not misplaced.” The words hit him like a train, barrelling into his chest and knocking the air from his lungs. He didn’t argue because he didn’t have a case to make, that much was true. As for whatever punishment she saw fit for him, he’d be willing to take. “Abby can’t be there,” he said softly, keeping his eyes locked on the floor. “That’s my only request.”

The guards led him into the annex, a crowd was already gathered, mostly skaikru. Apparently, this was going to happen whether he deserved it or not, Octavia had only done him a favor by telling him. He was shoved to his knees in the center of the room, wrists bound to makeshift posts on either side of him. The shirt torn off his back.

His mind flashed back to a similar scene, two metal poles with yellow straps. The sun beating down on his face as he murmured ‘again’  _ feeling _ her screams more than hearing. His eyes screwed shut, a shiver running through his body more to do with the images than the knife Octavia pulled from her belt. It was the same one she had used in the conclave. 

“There has been a great number of injustices we’ve suffered,” She started, addressing the entire crowd. Her strong voice projecting and silencing them. “Pain and loss that never should have happened. We cannot erase, we cannot undo the pain of the past, but for every drop of blood that has been wrongly spilled. We can have justice. _Jus drein, jus daun.”_ Voices shouted back, a chorus calling for blood, mostly grounders until it grew stronger as the rest of the room joined in. The sound of boots was all around him, in the half of the room he could see people were lining up, he already knew where this was going. “Ambassador Kane, for the crimes you have committed, you are hereby sentenced to one cut for every life you’ve taken.” 

In that moment, as the first Arker approached him, knife in hand, he wasn’t thinking of how much this would hurt. How much pain he would endure or if he would even survive it all, all he could see was Octavia. What the burden of leadership was doing to her, what it was making her do. He could see in the clench of her jaw she was reliving everything. Witnessing every loss she’d ever taken playing over and over in her mind. 

He looked at the man approaching him, knowing instantly who he was here to avenge. He could still see her body lying outside the bunker doors. He knew every face. “For my wife,” the man growled, digging the knife into his shoulder dragging it a few inches down. “She wasn’t essential enough for you to save.” The next was a young girl, not much older than Clarke. She had tears streaming down her cheeks, the knife shaking in her hand. “You’ve taken so much from all of us, this will never be enough,” she sobbed, cutting his chest in a line from sternum to navel. He choked on a scream, chest rising and falling rapidly, tearing at the wounds more. Pulling and stretching the skin. 

Every new person was a new face, a new name, a new _kill_. His people painted their pain onto him in broad strokes. Each cut more confident, more aggressive than the next. Four more cuts came before the first true cry fell from his lips, short and stunted but soaked in agony. His whole body burned, blood from cuts on his chest trickling down to ones on his abdomen, mingling together before dripping to the floor. Pooling around his knees. He’d lost count after 29, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from whimpering. By the time the last Arker had finished, a young boy who’d lost his mother, there wasn’t a patch of skin that wasn’t red and bleeding. The cuts weren’t deep, but precise. Meant to inflict the most pain with the least damage. He was supposed to  suffer and live with the consequences of his choices. This wasn’t death, this was justice. 

is head was swimming, what little blood left in him pounding in his ears in time with his heart. He didn’t hear Octavia approach but looked up as her shadow cast over him. There was nothing but pain and rage in her ice blue eyes. “Gon ai nomon,” she hissed preparing to add the last mark to his already shredded skin but was stopped by the sound of the doors banging open. The last person he wanted to see  _ running  _ in shouting, angrier than he’d ever seen her. “What the hell are you doing! You can’t-  _ he hasn’t done anything.” _

“He has done everything! You have no authority here, get out!” Octavia towered over the older woman, trying to intimidate her, but you could hold a knife to Abby Griffin’s throat and she still wouldn’t back down. “He’s five minutes from bleeding out, he’ll take days to heal, and in order to even give him a  _ chance. _ We’ll have to put a big dent in our medical supplies. Congratulations, the only thing you’ve succeeded in is consuming resources," Abby hissed, watching Octavia deflate slightly.

He barely heard their argument, his eyes fluttering shut, the shapes in front of him swirling. There was the faint sensation of soft skin on his before everything went blank. 

When he woke up in medical, Abby was nowhere to be found.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of blood. More depressing thoughts but it's going to get better. We're going to unpack a lot of emotion in this one. I hope you enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're carrying this past two chapters. I have to do it.

He drifted in and out of sleep for a long time. His body shutting down in order to heal itself. His entire torso, from shoulders to waist was covered in thick bandages, holding him together where he’d been torn apart. His throat burns but the glass is too far. Reaching for it stretches his skin and for the first time, he  _ feels _ every mark on his body. It feels like his skin is on fire, the rough material of the bandages scratching against raw wounds, pulling and shifting the tender skin. Marcus gasps, stunted cries of pain falling from his lips as he falls back against the mattress. The wounds on his back joining the chorus. The curtains around his cot parted, a startled looking Abby jumping through. Eyes immediately checking him over to see if he re-opened his wounds. Satisfied he wasn’t anymore torn up than he already was, she handed him the glass and turned to leave. “Abby…,” He whispers weakly, voice hoarse from underuse. The sudden need to have her close burning inside him. When she turns back to him her face is unreadable. “I can’t,” her voice shakes, “Not yet, I’m sorry. Jackson will be in to check your stitches soon,” and then she was gone.

She kept to herself for two whole days. Going between medical and her quarters, nowhere else. She can’t think about him yet, her mind reeling anytime his name comes up. 

_ Why him?  _

_ Why didn’t he stop it? _

_ What if he had died? _

_ What if you hadn’t stopped it? _

_ What if? What if? What if?  _

It was too much, too fast. She couldn’t even fathom how this had come up. What ungodly reason had Octavia come up with for him to be  _ tortured? _ She still remembers the pool of blood on the concrete. Splatters and drips marking the cold gray surface. Abby’s not sure they’ll ever be able to get the stain completely off. No matter how hard she scrubs. 

Shuddering she lays her head on her desk, feeling the fatigue settled deep in her bones come back with a vengeance. She has to keep moving, keep working, she has to-

“Go to bed, Abby. You’re exhausted.” Jackson lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, concern written all over his face. “I can’t, it’s too quiet.” The man sighs, turning his head to look at the curtain separating Kane from the rest of medical. “Take him home, talk about it. You won’t get better until you do, neither of you.” Abby knows he’s right, neither of them is okay, but she can’t go in there. Seeing his face, hearing him speak brings it all back. They don’t know how much she saw. How she froze in the doorway, watching as Octavia brought the knife to his skin, digging it in just above his heart and for a terrifying second thought she was going to plunge it into his chest. How it’s the only thing she sees when she closes her eyes. “I have to discharge him, it’d be best if neither of you was alone.” He says softly, presenting it as an offer, but her and Marcus share a room. She’s run for two days, but there’s nowhere left to go now.

*******

“I’m sorry.” The first words out of his mouth as she gently sets him down on their bed. “Marcus-”

“Please talk to me, I can’t lose you.” Her whole body freezes, hands still as they reach for the blankets. “You can’t lose me, but I can lose you?” The words come out cold, chilling him to the bone. He recoils back like she slapped him. “I...Abby-”

“You didn’t see what I saw. You didn’t see yourself. There was so much blood, you needed two transfusions. I had to run around the bunker looking for someone who matched your blood type while Jackson tried to stitch you back together. I had to look at your face as you passed out, I had to watch the color  _ the life _ drain out of you. I had to watch all of that.” He gulps, trying to reach for her hand. He needs her, to feel her, something but she pulls back. “I can’t talk about it, not until you tell me why. Why this happened. I need to know.” Marcus looks away, he can’t say it if she looks at him. He can’t say it and watch the pain in her gaze. “Because I deserve it.”

“Why?” He still won’t look at her, his eyes studying the floor. She needs to look at him when he says it, to see his eyes. To see if he believed it. She could always tell what was going on in his mind just by looking at his eyes. “Because I deserve it.”

“Look at me,” she takes a step closer, knees touching the edge of the bed but her arms crossed over her chest. “Why?” 

“Because I deserve it,” he spits, eyes locked onto hers, and her heart sinks. She can see every bit of pain and self-loathing swirling around trapped behind glass. The once vibrant earthy tones blackened by decay. “No,” she growls, suddenly overwhelmed with anger. “We’ve all done things to survive, Marcus. Things we wish we could undo, take back, erase, forget. There’s blood on all of our hands, but it doesn’t make you a monster. If you were a monster you wouldn’t feel guilt or remorse. You’d go on like nothing ever happened. So no, you don’t deserve this. Anyone who tells you-you do is wrong.” Hands twitching at her sides, curling into involuntary fists she turned away from him. Storming out of the room with fire in her veins. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The confrontation

There have been a great number of times in Abby Griffin’s life when she had been angry. Whether it be as simple as a lack of crucial medicine, or something much worse. No matter the circumstance she handled the situation with a level head, trying to sort things out in the calmest way possible. She was a problem solver, not creator. She has  _ method _ when faced with a problem. A goal, a way to accomplish said goal, and a nicely compiled list of everything that could possibly go wrong. It’s usually a very long list. 

She has none of these things as she storms towards the council chambers, people jumping out of her way in the corridors. She’s seeing red, and no. Not the kind that she spent hours scrubbing off her hands, long after the water had started to run clear. Or the kind that still paints the annex floor. Dead center and  _ glaring. _

The kind of red that cuts off your rationale, inhibits better judgment. The kind that can only be described as all-encompassing fury. 

She doesn't bother knocking. She may not be a member of the council but former Chancellor and chief medical officer garners enough respect. She reckons after this display she'll lose a substantial amount. 

“You better have a damn good explanation for doing what you did.” Octavia looks unsurprised, ordering everyone out of the room with a wave of her hand. Abby’s eyes burn holes through anyone that passes her before settling on the one seat that hadn’t been filled at the table.  _ His. _ “You’re going to have to refrain from barging into meetings like that in the future,” Octavia said cooly, ignoring what had previously been said. “I’m going to ask you calmly first, what reasoning do you have for torturing a good man within an inch of his life. Making a public spectacle out of it, allowing  _ the public  _ to participate. Torturing the commander of your guards, by the way, who is filling in for him? What reason justified this?”

“Miller will fill in for Kane until he becomes mobile again. It was pre-discussed.” Abby scoffs, gripping the edge of the table like a vice. “Thanks to your little display he may never be the same again. Muscle and tissue damage was extensive. If you’re going to conduct torture make sure the participants won’t  _ cripple _ the person. Now tell me,  _ what _ reason?”

“He was lax in his duties, allowing crimes to go unpunished. He refused to punish a criminal and the punishment was then his to bear. Plain and simple.” Abby took a deep breath, glaring at the young woman from across the room. Folding her arms to try and stop them from shaking. “It’s not all black and white. Who did he refuse to punish? And what crime could  _ they _ possibly have committed to garner this kind of punishment?” She watched Octavia stiffen, returning her glare with force. “A young boy, he started a fight resulting in multiple injuries.” 

“I know,” she says simply, “I treated all of them. The boy got the worst of it, it was clear in his eyes he wasn’t going to try anything again. Try a new reason.” Her hand twitched, the commander’s capes swishing a little behind her. “He was a source of unrest like I said. The people were unhappy, agitated. He knew what he was getting into.” 

“He may have known but it wasn’t his idea. Collaboration and giving in are two different things. You played his demons for your own gain. Tell me, Octavia, why did  _ you  _ do this? I saw the look in your eyes, peace has nothing to do with this. Not for you.” The words come out biting, and she can  _ see  _ when they hit their mark. Making Octavia flinch back slightly. “Get out.” 

“Answer my question and I’ll leave. Why are you so hell-bent on destroying a man who has done nothing but love you. Care for you, for as long as he’s known you. He cares about you so much so why do you want to hurt him?” Octavia snarls, hand twitching on the hilt of her sword. “Why do  _ you _ care about him, he’s taken everything from you. He took your husband, Clarke, your council seat, he tried to have you  _ killed,  _ and then he shock lashed you. So tell me why do  _ you  _ care?”

“He never wanted to do those things. Following orders and doing something because you want to is completely different. As for the shocklashing, would you like to know what he did when he saw the marks on my back? Do you want to know what he did? He took one look, turned on his heel and proceed to vomit right on the spot. In front of the entire camp. I had to have Jackson examine him to make sure he hadn’t contracted anything. After that, he went on a mission that nearly cost him his life to save your friends. I care about him because he’s a good man. Your move.” The door opens behind her suddenly, two grounders taking hold of her elbows. “Cause trouble again, and I won’t hesitate.” She nods at the guards, ordering them to escort her to her room and stand post at the door. “You’re being confined to quarters for a week. Meals will be delivered, if you are needed in medical you will be notified.” The guards pull her out, finally letting go of her once the council doors shut. She punches the access code to their room in with more force than necessary, letting out a quiet sob when her eyes settle on Marcus. Body bruised and bandaged. Possibly never to heal. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright alright alright. Before anyone yells at me, yes this is a tad OOC. BUT I'm extremeifying EVERYTHING. I'm ALIE setting emotional responses to 10000%. Everything is amped purely for angsty enjoyment. Lord knows I'd never want anything like this in canon

For a moment his stillness scares her, shallow breaths and heavy exhaustion making him sleep like the dead. Until a small snore passes his lips, releasing the breath she’d been holding tight in her throat. She moves quietly to avoid waking him, placing a gentle hand on his forehead then checking his pulse. Missing the way his eyes snap open and watch her recede into the bathroom. When she gets out of the shower, the bed is empty. 

Cursing, she practically jumps into her clothes and rushes out of the door. Only being stopped by the guards still posted outside. “No one is injured, you have not been summoned,” One of them gruffs, blocking her path down the hallway. “One of my patients left this room, he is injured and needs to rest,” She retorts, crossing her arms and eyeing the tall spear the man holds like its nothing. “You may not leave, he will return when he is ready. Skaihef is yuj.” 

“He’s been  _ tortured,  _ I need to go make sure he isn’t injuring himself more. Will you please let me pass or come with me whatever you want I just need to  _ find _ him.”

“I’m sorry sakifisa, Heda will not allow it. He will be back soon.” Abby narrows her eyes, glaring at the man before reluctantly going back inside her quarters. Cursing Marcus for being dumb enough to get out of bed, not while he was barely being held together by his stitches. 

*******

He hadn’t bothered putting a shirt on, the bandages covered his chest completely, and he hoped that was the cause for the numerous eyes that followed him as he walked through the mess. Despite having known better. It unnerved him greatly how no one seemed able to look away, gazes darting between the red slowly coloring his bandages and his face. Like they expected him to spontaneously collapse. It felt like forever before he was able to grab food and scurry out as fast as his aching body would allow him, back to the safety of his quarters. 

Except safe wasn’t really the right word when he entered and saw the way Abby was burning holes in his head. It was only one set of eyes but felt infinitely more penetrating than that of wonkru had. “What the hell were you thinking? Getting out of bed with no assistance and sneaking out while I was in the shower. How was that a good idea? You popped at least 3 stitches and ruined your bandages all for what?” He held up the two trays with a shrug, wincing when her glare only intensified. He shuffled his feet eyes cast downward as he studied the floor. Feeling like a young child getting scolded for misbehavior. “I just wanted to do something right,” he whispered, setting the trays down on the small desk in front of the bed. Abby sighed, rubbing her hands down her face tiredly. “Sit down,” she said softly, reaching for the med kit she kept beside the bed. He sits on the edge and she steps between his knees, slowly unwrapping the red-stained cloth from his chest. Careful of where it stuck to still open wounds. “I’m going to have to redo some of these stitches,” she said, only smirking a little bit at the shudder he gave. Gently, Abby pulled the broken stitches out, wincing every time he did. Apologetically squeezing his hand before putting in the first new stitch. Knowing how much he hated needles. 

After the last bandage was secured she placed her hand over his heart, right where Octavia’s blade had almost gone. “We need to talk about it,” she whispered, stroking the rough cotton. “Not now, later but please not now. I need….I want-”

“What?”

"I can't think about it, please." His voice cracks, hand shaking as he reaches out for her. All the things haunting him, every choice, every life, everything he’s been forced to do rising up inside him. Tearing him apart from the inside out. His face crumples, eyes screwing shut as everything overwhelms him. Abby’s seen him break before, after the culling, after ALIE but this feels different. This feels like giving in.

She backs away for a moment, her own horrible thoughts jumping to the front of her mind. A glass bowl, angry shouts, fighting, the heavy slam of a door as it seals shut for the next 5 years.

“Marcus,” She whispers still a few feet away, unsure about touching him. “Look at me, please. I love you, you're okay.” His eyes snap open, it was the wrong thing to say. “How? I’m a murderer. All I’ve ever done is hurt people,  _ kill _ people. You can’t possibly love someone like me.” Abby recoils at the venom in his tone. Ice cold, and stabbing. “Marcus-”

“Don’t call me that,” He bites, hands balling into fists. “Don’t call you what? Your  _ name? _ Don’t start with this,” She spits back, stepping closer to him. Eyes locking with heated stares. “You don’t get to do this,  _ Marcus. _ You’re hurt, you’re upset, you’re scared. You regret things, but you  _ don’t _ get to give up. I’m not going to let you just throw everything away! We’re going to talk about this so you never pull a stunt like that again!” She yelled, getting face to face as he got to his feet. Even beaten and battered he towered over her. “I didn’t  _ pull a stunt  _ Abby, I was doing what needed to be done! Paying for my sins and I’ll do it a hundred times over if it means I can make something right.”

“ _ You almost died,  _ what good could that do? What good could come out of your death? Sacrificing yourself isn’t going to do anything, Marcus!” She’s sure they’re yelling loud enough for it to echo through the bunker halls. She’ll scream until it reaches space if it means he’ll  _ listen. _ She’d much rather use kind words and soft touches to console him but that won’t work. “Oh, don’t act like I’m the only one who’s tried it,  _ Abigail _ . You told me you loved me and then tried to do the same damn thing!” 

“You don’t understand-”

“No,” He growled, leaning down so close their noses nearly touched. “I’ve killed hundreds, nearly a thousand! You have no idea what it’s like!” Then he backed away fully, grabbing his jacket off the hook and storming out of the room.

He was hurting, she knew that. It’s what she told herself to combat all the things he said. He was struggling, all his demons rising up at once. With as many as he had that couldn’t be easy to deal with. She’d give him time to cool off and then they could talk this out. He’d be okay, they’d both be okay.

Four hours later. Marcus had yet to return.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reveal

There’s a separate part of the bunker if he remembers correctly from the plans, that could only be accessed if you knew it was there. He was pretty sure he was the only one who knew about the area if the lack of guards was anything to go off of. 

He slipped in easily, finding himself among towers of storage crates. He just needed quiet and despite the mess, this place would be perfect, no one would be able to find and disturb him. Here, he could let out all the things he was feeling without fear of being discovered. 

No one understood what he felt. If you were from the ark, you saw the man who was cold and callous, carrying out the chancellor’s orders without a second thought. Imprisoning children killing mother’s father’s sister’s brother’s family friends anyone. Merciless, cruel, unfeeling,  _ murderer. _

If you were a grounder you saw weakness. A spirit unable to support the weight of decision. A willingness to give up power You saw failure. A man who continually tried to make peace but failed every time. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get it right.

The wood side of the crate splintered as he punched through it, creating gashes nearly up to his elbow. He hissed and brought his hand to his chest, eyes catching a flash of something shiny from inside the crate. 

Curious he searched for something to pry the lid off, finding a long piece of metal thin enough to get between the slats. Prying the lid off with a loud crack and peering at the contents. He pulled out the packaging, leaving the aged and yellowed newspaper scraps to be examined later. Pulling out a silver frame and turning it to find a picture.

Five people were smiling up at the sky, laying on their backs on soft grass, hand in hand forming a circle. Soft looks on all of their faces. He set it carefully to the side, pulling out another and another. Going through the contents of each box slowly.

It seemed that this is where second dawn had stored the personal effects of all it's members before the bombs launched. More proof they never made it here. 

There were photos, pictures, books, drawings, anything small you’d want to make sure survived the end of the world with you. 

“This place was meant to be humanity’s salvation,” he sneered, kicking one of the lids across the room. Nearly throwing the picture with it. Overcome with sudden anger.

He wondered briefly if they should’ve all just stayed on the surface. Let the radiation consume them all and end the fight. No more pain, no more loss, but he pushed the thoughts down. They were too dangerous to think. 

His hand throbbed, dripping blood onto the silver surface of the frame, quickly flicking it away with his thumb. He had been gone for nearly three hours, sorting through all the items. It was strangely calming, looking at the pictures and remembering how far humanity had come. Even if they had reset the clock on themselves they had still gotten so far. They could do it again surely. As soon as they got out they would rebuild, things would be different. They’d be united in a common goal.

He sighed, feeling the pressure on his chest ease. His mind clearing the dark fog that had been surrounding it. Allowing streaks of light to flood in and fill the void. He felt better, not good but better. He’d go back to Abby and apologize, what he had said was wrong. They did need to talk about it, and his putting it off had only made the problem worse. As always, she was right. He had acted horribly, and he needed to go back and fix it.

Yet, when he walked into their room Abby was nowhere to be found. He wasn’t alarmed, suspecting she had just gone to medical to get out and get some work done to take her mind off their argument. His hand needed to be bandaged anyway, he’d apologize there and make it up to her in any way he could. She didn’t deserve the things he had said, nor did she deserve having to watch him beaten. He still remembers the sick feeling in his stomach after the shocklashing, Sinclair had to wrap an arm around his waist in order to pull him to the medical tent.

He pulled his sleeves down over his arm, covering the gashes and took a light jog off toward medical. Eager to get in there and try his best to set things right. When he walked through the door, Jackson and Niylah were huddled in the center, deep in conversation. Wild hand motions and harsh whispers passing between them. “Jackson, have you seen Abby?” 

They both reeled around, frightened expressions on their faces. “Where the hell have  _ you  _ been. We’ve been looking for you for over two hours!” Jackson nearly shouted, taking a step forward into his space. Chest heaving with the outburst. “I-I what’s going on?”

“What’s going on? What’s  _ going on? _ Do you even pay attention anymore or are you too busy drowning in your own self-hate? Hurting the people who care about you because you’re too stupid to  _ let go _ !” Niylah placed a hand on the young doctor’s chest, pushing him back before he could say anything else. Whispering a few words into his ear that seemed to calm him down. “Abby hasn’t been in medical for  a few days, we’ve caught word that Octavia had her arrested.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy and I hope you want to kill me for the ending

She had a reputation with the reaper sticks, and maybe this wasn’t the best use of them but she wasn’t going to sit in her room and do nothing.

Knocking one guard out while the other went to change post wasn’t the most thought out plan. There was only one hallway leading to her quarters, naturally, the replacement guard would use that to get to his position, upon arriving and finding his new partner unconscious on the ground. Alarms would be raised.

Her rebellious streak is a little put out she got caught, normally the only person who did that was….

She’d been in lockup for around two hours when the doors opened. “I told you what would happen if you disobeyed orders, Abby.” She wasn’t expecting Octavia, surely there was something better she could be doing. “I wasn’t going to sit there and wait. I had things to do, people to treat.”

“There was no one else admitted to medical, the only one currently receiving treatment is Kane.”

“Because of you.” Octavia faltered, stepping closer to the bars that separated them. “Because of himself. There’s no room for mercy down here. Without order, humanity dies.”

“There are other ways of establishing order than torture maybe if you _asked_ Marcus for advice instead of _beating_ him you’d realize that.” She had tried being reasonable with her, tried taking the safe paths and gentle roads but they hadn’t worked. Abby wasn’t going to allow a repeat of the first half of her life. Not again. “Funny, you seem to forget he did the exact same thing, and it worked.” Abby masked a shudder, the day still fresh in her mind. She couldn’t show if the words were getting to her.

“Clarke wouldn’t have done this, she would’ve seen this was right.” Abby stumbled back, unable to conceal it, her daughter’s name slicing through her like a hot blade. “Clarke knew how to prioritize the security of hundreds instead of one.” It was war now, she hadn’t come here to talk reason. She had come here to see that her point carried across, that she was the only authority. “Are you saying that I don’t? You’d still be on the other side of that door if I had only cared about the few.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Octavia growled, “you only opened that door because of him. He’s the only one you cared about.”

“You’re wrong,” was all she said. Seeing how the lack of response made her jaw clench harder. “Do not challenge me, I’m not the one who’s behind bars.”

“I’ll be out eventually, no one’s been able to keep me behind them for long so far.” It was a hollow threat, convincing enough given her rebellious qualities but still improbable. She really wasn’t sure how she was getting out of here. “When are you going to learn you’re _not_ in charge. We don’t play by your rules anymore, you’re not Chancellor and this isn’t the Ark.” She crouches low to the ground, nose inches from going between the bars of the cell. “Be careful what you start.” The door slams shut after she leaves, echoing around the concrete room.

*******

Abby was in lockup.

She had been arrested.

Octavia had arrested her.

It was his fault.

He understood perfectly why Jackson was so upset. He’d been careless, not even asking about the guards stationed outside their quarters. He was too wrapped up in his own personal issues to note what was happening around him. _Stupid._

“Well, aren’t you going to _do_ something? You’re commander of the guards aren't you, order them to release her!” He shook his head, locking his fingers behind his head and letting out a deep sigh. “No, it would be disobeying a direct order from the commander. Even if I could get one of the guards on my side there’d be twenty others waiting to arrest me.” Niylah nodded, studying the floor tiles. “Oktavia is fierce but surely she knows Abby is needed.”

“I could try talking to her.” He said, not hearing the boots approaching from behind him. “For a smart man, Kane. That is not the brightest idea. Heda has no wish to see you, let alone negotiate.” Indra walked into medical, sans her usual guard detail. He gulped, fearing that their undercooked plot was discovered and they’d all end up in that cell. No hope of getting out but Indra smiled -or, well, gave a small tilt of her head that told him they were safe. Indra didn’t smile- “I may be of assistance. I do not agree with the skaifisa’s imprisonment. She has done no wrong.” Jackson looked worried, hands fidgeting, bouncing from one foot to the other subtly. Niylah appeared calm but there was a slight twitch to her jaw that gave away her discomfort. Neither of them familiar with Indra or her trustworthiness.

Marcus, who felt he had quite the sound relationship with the woman, felt his knees go a little weak in relief. “Any repercussions, I’ll handle. Just please help me get her out.”

“No, you have paid your dues and then some, I will deal with Octavia. Now, we need a plan.”

“I just might have one,” Nate interrupted, waltzing into medical like he was 10 steps ahead of them.

*******

They’d spent a good four and a half hours carefully crafting. Moving locations every so often to avoid suspicion. This wasn’t Arkadia, no one could escape through a panel into the woods if discovered.

Details were ironed out, schedules crafted and hitches planned for. All that was left was to set it all in motion and pray Octavia would see reason. If she didn’t they’d lose more than they were hoping to gain, but it was a risk Marcus -and him alone as he’d very clearly stated- was willing to take.

Miller had been the mastermind behind most of the scheme, as he had been the last time someone needed to be jailbroken. Marcus knew that the Griffin’s and Miller’s had been close. Abby had been a second home to him after the death of his own mother back on the ark. This was personal for him, which made for an excellent plan.

There were a lot of options that opened up when the person you were trying to break out was the most medically trained person in the entire bunker. She would be the only one skilled enough to aide him after the toxin entered his body.

The vial felt heavy in his palm as he walked casually into the center of the common area. Skaikru and grounders milling around the blossoming trading post it had become, totally unaware of what would be going down.

The liquid burned as it flowed down his throat, a raw scratchiness setting in instantly. The glass tube dropped from his palm, getting crushed as hundreds gathered watching him collapse to the ground. Writhing and convulsing as the horrible burning spread throughout his body. White froth building in his throat and dripping slowly from his now slack lips.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8 doses, 4 hours. He needs all of them to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE BACK BITCHES   
> YESS  
> After a month-long hiatus, your angst hoe is back at it again. Fresh feels courtesy of my espresso depresso soundtrack and pent-up emotion. I'd like to thank my brain melting like Ice cream and someone named Jose

Whatever Niylah cooked up is hell. He gasps the moment the first drop lands on his tongue. Liquid fire spreading down his throat like moonshine from the depths of hell. For a brief moment, he wonders if this is what it would feel like if he was left outside to die in the radiation. His body being consumed by infinitely hot flames until it crisps and blows away in the wind.

The thought passes like his consciousness. Quickly.

Niylah had warned him, yanking the vial out of his hand before he got ahead of himself. “If you drink this, and Abby is not released. We will have no access to the medication needed to save your life. If Abby does not come you will die, are you sure you want to do this?” He considers for a moment. Octavia is unpredictable. A refusal to release Abby is very possible, especially if it’s to save  _ his _ life. This could backfire in so many ways.

He grips the vial tighter and eases it out of her hand. “I have to. It has to be me, if it goes wrong it can’t be anyone but me.” She lets go of his hand, stepping back and crossing her arms. “If you die, I’m not sure what’s going to happen to her.” Marcus rubs a hand down his face, tucking the vial into his pocket. “I.....this will work. We have to focus on that. Just make sure everything’s in place, alright? It’s almost time.” She nods, giving one last lingering look to the top of the vial. Praying she hadn’t just created a monster.

*******

Boots slammed down the hallway, waking her from a trance. People yelling and shouting. Chaos. Whatever had arisen had to be near or already a disaster. “You need to release her!” A familiar voice shouted, sounding desperate. “You’re a doctor, save him yourself. I don’t see why she should be released.” They were arguing right outside the door. Voices increasing in agitation by the second. “I tried, but his lungs are filling with fluid, he’s got a raging fever and Niylah had to strap him down to stop him from  _ convulsing _ off the table. If I treat him with the wrong medicine it could kill him instantly. I don’t even have access to the level of medication needed.”   
“How can I know you’re not lying. How do I know you’re not just trying to break her out. You and her are close.”

“Octavia, we’re in a sealed bunker. What would we do if we  _ were _ breaking her out? We can’t hide anywhere?  _ Please _ , he’s dying, suffering. She’s the only one that can save him.” The voices stopped, the only thing filling the silence was her pounding heart. There’s only one person Jackson could be talking about. One person who Jackson wouldn’t want to treat without her.  _ One person, she can’t live without. _

She shouts her name, rattling the bars of the cell to make as much noise as she could. Banging on the door until Jackson finally broke through. “Let me save him, Octavia. You can’t let him die.”

“You’re awful commanding for someone behind bars.” Octavia sneered, hand resting on the hilt of her sword. “We’re all imprisoned, but if you want us to survive I  _ need _ to help him.”    
Octavia’s face hardens, looking very much like a teenager in the way her lips form into a scowl. “You have five hours. The second that time is up you’re back in here. No acceptions.” One guard came forward and unlocked the cell, nearly falling back when Abby shoved past him to get to Jackson. “How is he? What do you know? Symptoms? Possible causes?” 

“I’ll brief you on the way, but we’ve got to get in there quick.” Octavia watched them embrace quickly before both running through the doors. A conflicting feeling churning in her stomach.

_ He’s dying? _

***

They nearly sprinted to medical, people jumping out of the WA as their boots crashed loudly on the concrete. Gasps and whispered passed through the halls, some pondering what sort of emergency warranted such a response. Others wondering what had finally made Head release the doctor. When they finally burst through the doors, Jackson shut and locked them behind them. “Here, change into this. Quick, we don't have much time before someone comes and asks questions.” He passed her a small bag, filled with clothes and a few rations. “Jackson wha-”

“There's no time, I promise everything will be explained but we need to move.” He was pacing, glancing urgently at the doors every few seconds as he picked things off the shelves. She changed quickly, too stunned to press for answers now.

He turned and handed her the repacked bag, glancing at the doors as he did so. “That should last you enough, the medicine he needs is in there too. Niylah should be around to show you how to administer it. Now come on, we've only got 10 minutes more tops before someone comes looking.” Puzzled, head ringing with worries and confusion she let him lead her along. Winding down deserted corridors before coming to a small door, tucked behind stacks of crates. If you hadn't been looking for it, you would've never found it. “Jackson for the last time-”

“He's in there, I want more time, but it's got to be a quick goodbye. They're going to figure us our any minute and I need to be as far away from here as I can.” He pulls her into a hug, holding her like he always does. Warm and gentle and full of a love that takes years to form. She smiles hugging him back, forgetting for a second their circumstances before he pulls back. “Go, he still needs your help.”

*******

Marcus is lying in the middle of the room, atop a bed constructed from pallets and too thin blankets. Niylah was crouched by his side, running a cloth over his forehead. “Abby, it's good to see you again.” She nods, looking down at Marcus’ body. His wounds are still healing, poking red streaks from under the blanket, high up on his chest, but it wasn't what most concerned her. He had a fever, large beads of sweat rolling down his brow, he was pale and shaking. “He will be fine, the poison looks worse than it is,” Niylah speaks calmly, but Abby hears nothing past that one word. 

_ He was poisoned. _

“Who did this, has there been an insurgency?” The woman layed a hand on her shoulder, trying to calm the growing panic while unsure how to deliver the next piece of news. “He did it himself, it was the only way we saw to break you out. Now I need to hurry and show you how to administer the antidote. It must be done every half hour for the next 4 hours. If that is done, he will recover fully.”

She gives the first round of injections, showing Abby where and how much before sneaking out. Leaving her alone with Marcus for the first time in days. 

She looks at him for a long while, hands running softly through his hair. Stroking the damp locks away from his forehead. Not ready to look at the rest of the damage on his body, just focusing on the rise and fall of his chest. 

Two hours go by, four injections. Her wincing every time the needle pierced his skin. Wanting him to wake up but knowing it's better that he doesn't. Not with the horrible liquid still coursing through his system. 

At the three hour mark she peels back the blanket, finding the strength to go in and start cleaning and bandaging his cuts. Feeling a welcomed sense of ease seeing them healing far better than she expected. Abby gets used to the silence, humming to herself to fill it nonetheless. Eventually letting the things in her mind flow free. “I don't know why you do these things to yourself. I would've been okay, Marcus. You could've died. I could've lost you forever and I can't do that Marcus. I can't do that ever again. I know we have things to work out, things that need to be said, but I can't do that if you don't wake up.” The small watch Niylah left her with beeps twice. Signalling it's time for the last of his medication. She turns around, digging into the bag for the last vial, pulling it out.

A hand lands on her back, startling her so much the vial drops, a small crack forming in the side. “ _ Abby _ ,” his voice rasps. Weak from lack of use. She spins around, looking into his astonished eyes unbelieving. “Abby,  _ Abby,  _ are you alright? Did she hurt you?”

She laughs, out of sheer absurdity. Crashing her lips against his to kiss him wildly.  _ He's alive.  _

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't kill me.


End file.
